Wandering through intellect and memory making a map of my evolution …The emergence from the cave gives innocence a chance to grow anew and reflect upon things as a whole cycle . Here I lay myself down deeper and deeper into the natural matrix …

Finding a language that encompasses truth all inclusive, seeking the evolution of the marks made and translated to the moments of eternal return. The city heaving and breathing an energy of humanity moving forward , breathing through my roots I accept my place.

Into the waters and the wild, into the vibrant memory of freedom, Soul dwelling and body breathing. All that I have been still remains … When the water clears those wonderful imperishable moments of pure bliss shine.

The Soul fire that burns bright, the fire that cleanses all the dead wood that has accumulated over many years. When stripped down to the glowing elemental bones all things seem infinite and all things seem bright and new, like the world is being born again.

I remind myself that joy permeates reason and struggle is a necessity for growth.

Energy in motion looks for a way back to the source, a river to the sea, water to air falling back to life. The cycle continues unbroken ever changing, ever renewing oneself in the struggle of growth. The motion of choices being made, promises remembered and seeking truth in the desert fire. Sparks rising on waves of heat, a rhythm, a beating heart and a passionate dance to the stars.

In the purging velvet darkness a silence that salves the aching thinking self, allowed to be nothing in this present moment. Freedom forming a vast vista of unknown yet familiar intent, close to the ocean, mists rising and moving, hands reaching into spirit

Letting go of the empty voices that creep about in the shadows simply doing no good, and letting go of the beautiful light that flows in the freedom of living release. Letting go the love into the world so that it may grow wild. Trusting in my reason for being here, trusting in this soul fragment that I follow…. I am being lead into an unknown yet familiar place.

I approach again with a need to write …The waves of intellect have crashed on numerous occasions against my will, like the waves that roar with the sheer power of the ocean, white water power. The foam I consider to be the evidence of passion is all but expunged by frivolous over thinking and an ultimate descent into pointlessness. I had deceived myself into thinking that I had nothing constructive to say. There I sat for weeks, head spinning ravenous thoughts around in a spiral , like a pac man munching up all the delicate passion.

My head still spins with forming thoughts holding tension that I must release. The mounting unexpressed minions dragging me to a place where nothing is soft enough or clear enough. The pointlessness dresses my soul in the foulest of rags , and does not even take joy in it’s victory! The odor has grown to a stifling intensity, it acts like a drug that changes my perception… finally I move to open the window. New air has such fragrance that it makes my mouth water , a desire for something other begins to manifest. I find myself naked and clean with a fresh stack of enthused potential.

Maybe now that I have my own permission thoughts may be allowed to crystalize at a natural pace instead of speeding in confinement. The act of writing begins the release of debris, the rattling of chains and the chink of light. The motion of doing has the tendency to quiet the mind, fishing out those core truths. Instead of shooting fish in a barrel one gazes upon the vast open nature that is their habitat. Writing creates room for ideas and their details , slightly apart from the chaos but still connected. The deep multidimensional well of reality is in constant motion, full of the diversity of many mundane acts. The rich and beautiful notion of prayer and altruism. Routine that is gently laid upon the rest of the random mind.

A time of moments that are intense and rest that is a bit restless. The sky remains dark with those long long dusky evenings that speak of many moments compacted, one upon another. That feeling of memory in the light, a place in the cycle revisited with new awareness, with history like an invisible pillar. It is still Winter… Awareness grounding me in this place, this nameless state so full of a myriad, diverse and changing memories … Too many to grasp … so to let go and be a moving part with a little bag of poetry.

That beautiful spongey silence with water heavy in the air and breath finding presence in the visual realm. The weather turns cold again and I must release all expectation of what will be, what is forming and what is already written. The present regarded as time passing is a thought that needs to be transformed. I am feeling a little lost with an underlying sadness that threatens to engulf me. It is a nameless thing colored by the small acts of destruction we commit against ourselves. As these thoughts gather pace again water waits and slowly rises, waiting for critical mass to force the release and the healing. The salty tears flow to cleanse the wounds of the body and of the soul.